


Like Tigers

by CorrineWrites



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: (there's not loads of vimes, but like. A bit.)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorrineWrites/pseuds/CorrineWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been noted that the importance of Unseen University relies not on the institution's teaching of young wizards how to use magic, but rather on it's teaching old wizards not to. Nobby and Colon, with help and instruction from Commander Vimes, are well versed in how to not fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Tigers

' _Moist acknowledged that Nobby and Colon, if given no alternative, could fight like tigers, especially tigers with the nasty weaponry of the streets where anything went and wherever it went it could be very, very painful.' -_ Raising Steam

 

Sergeant Fred Colon and Corporal Nobby Nobbs were notorious for being elsewhere during a fight, only to reappear at the end with fantastic tales of mêlée bravery and taking down huge men with a single blow. This had led many people to think of them as cowards, and question why Commander Vimes had kept them on, relics of the previous embarrassment of a Watch, perhaps putting it down to a strange sentimentality.

This assumption was wrong. It wasn't cowardice that brought Fred Colon's feet across Sergeant Keel's line, nor was it a yellow streak that put a limit on the number of scars, bruises and fractures of Nobby Nobbs' body and mind. Through the years and through the ranks, from child to man, from civilian to copper to soldier and back, Nobby and Fred had seen a lot of the city, the disc, and humanity (and, lately, trollhood, dwarfdom, etc). They'd seen downright bastards walk away with an impressive new scar, while good men screamed agonising last breaths. They'd watched, listened, dodged, run, _learnt,_ and resolved; it wouldn't happen to them.

Fred Colon had his family to think of, for all that he tried to keep his work and home lives separate. He walked the city's night-time streets in the hope of doing some small thing to keep them safe, all the while taking the important step of making sure he came home safely to them. Fred had his family and Nobby had... well, Nobby had no-one, but he'd always had no-one and it had never stopped him yet, he was one of nature's survivors (as well as one of nature's liars, nature's stinkers - notably pungent in a city as odour-rich as Ankh-Morpork - and the poster... _individual_ for species ambiguity). Fred had often marvelled to himself at his younger friend, who he knew had been through so much more than he had; at how he'd kept going all these years, with no-one to come home to, to hold, to whisper his despair to. He wondered who it was Nobby fought for, who it was that he couldn't bear the thought of something happening to which kept him at this rotten way of life they'd both chosen. But they had a job to do and so they did it, surprisingly well for all that they appeared only to plod grooves in the streets with hands outstretched for all the free beer and doughnuts they could carry.

They were important men, a valuable resource to Mister Vimes in more ways than they realised, and a friendly (or at least, familiar) face for those who still found the formality of reporting things to a Watch house intimidating. Seeing what they'd seen, and knowing what they knew, the pair would witness people dive head first into bar fights and shake their heads and carry on, knowing that there'd be one less person headed to whatever they knew as home tonight.

However. A war is no place for the peaceful, and running and dodging and hiding can only help you so much, and so Nobby and Fred had a secret, which was that they were _good_. Moist Von Lipwig had realised this, as had several other members of the Watch, but it wasn't spoken of; nearly everyone in the city's police force had certain quirks of lifestyle or personality, and if this was how the pair chose to live then that was up to them. But Fred's bulk wasn't all fat and Nobby wasn't only skin and bones and these were smart, strong, surviving men.

Fred could move deceptively fast when he wanted to but most of his strength lay in the knowledge that when you've got bulk on your side you may as well use it, whereas Nobby had realised from a young age that weapons were the friend of those who were up against the bulk on other people's side. So he'd put what meagre reading skills he possessed to use and had gathered a worryingly encyclopaedic knowledge of instruments of destruction, as well as expanding his reading ability and vocabulary -'disembowel' was a particularly interesting word. Most of what he coveted he couldn't afford (or at least, wouldn't part with enough of the assorted valuables he'd collected throughout the years for) and wouldn't be saved by if Commander Vimes found it in his possession, but he'd cultivated an impressive collection of the more basic items of specialised weaponry.

In the old days of the Watch, there hadn't been much call for action of that sort, and these days they had dwarves and trolls and Carrot and Angua to take on most of the sharper end of policing, but there were times, oh yes, there were times when things went bad and the situation got desperate and when _Mister Vimes needs our help_ and these were the times Fred and Nobby set aside what they'd learnt and _fought_ and fought so hard and so well that in a world overflowing with magic people who knew the Sergeant and the Corporal well would think that it couldn't possibly be them, and reality must be on the blink again.

Because if there was one thing Nobby and Fred would let loose and give it their all for it was Sam Vimes. Sam Vimes who used to let a young Nobby into the back door of the Watch house so that the boy would have a warm place to sleep. Sam Vimes who lied and took punishments meant for the two of them because he knew that what they'd done was right even if it wasn't proper. Sam Vimes who'd spent a week in bed fighting the fever from a knife wound meant to kill Fred Colon. Sam Vimes covered in scars from similar actions over the years. Sam Vimes who they watched rise through the ranks and and drop deeper into depression. Sam Vimes who they stuck by for decades but more importantly who stuck by them now that he was His Grace the Duke of Ankh, Commander of the City Watch, Sir Samuel. Sam Vimes who showed them every day how to be better and who got only exasperated disappointment in return, except for when it mattered. Sam Vimes who was _there_.

Throughout the city, across the plains and beyond, Sam Vimes was known as Vetinari's Terrier, but when they were needed, Sergeant Fred Colon and Corporal Nobby Nobbs could be Vimes' Rotweillers.

 


End file.
